Connections
by Rapha L
Summary: Recovery from the worst kind of torture will either bring two brothers together or estrange them for good.


Warning: This story is about some seriously depraved bad guys. This section skims the issue, but the actual story itself outlines recovery and will go into some specific detail. If you can't handle **non-con issues**, don't go further. Also, there are strong slash elements in this story. Mike/Raph along with Don/OC.

* * *

A Prologue of Moments, or How a Good Day Goes Really Bad

* * *

One brother, bulky under a heavy coat, clinging to the back of another bulky brother. Broad and heavy, muscles and shells and leather creaking between them. Heavy steel under them. 

Otherwise? Lighter than air.

Racing. Wind biting at their faces, cold and exhilarating, waking up every pore.

The brother riding in the back clings to the driver's coat, hands gripping the outer rim of a shell that's a perfect handhold. He's cold, and as the bike weaves in and out of traffic, turning corners on a dime, throwing him from one side to the other and back in jarring jerks that feel uncontrolled, he's a little scared.

He can't stop laughing.

His brother is mostly silent, all instant reflex and sudden shifts to take them one way or the other. But he glances back when they're on a longer stretch of straight road and he speaks into the vacuum of wind.

"You see?"

His passenger nods instantly, leaning to plaster himself to his brother's back to shout in his ear. "This is amazing!"

He catches only a glimpse of the beginning of a smile as the driver turns back to watch the road. The throttle turns, the engine revs, and they shoot forward with a sudden burst of speed that has the passenger's stomach dropping into the seat of the bike.

His laughter only gets louder. He leans forward for support, and hears his brother's voice, an unbridled shout being ripped away from them on the wind.

He whoops and adds his own cry to the sounds getting swallowed by the night and the traffic and the roar of the engine under them.

* * *

The bike parked beneath them on the street. The wind still cool but nothing after feeling it at sixty miles an hour. 

Two brothers standing at the edge of the rooftop, looking out on the city as far as they can see. They're not very high up - maybe three stories, surrounded by taller buildings. Dangerous, and if their more responsible brothers were with them they never would have stopped on a roof that could be seen from windows nearby.

But these two weren't meant for responsible thinking. These two were reckless at the best of times, and tonight was worse.

Tonight was their night off.

Raphael moves to the very edge and drops to sit, to dangle his legs off the building in full sight of those nearby buildings. Michelangelo doesn't hesitate to follow.

Their hands brace behind them, their faces tilt upward. If there are stars shining, New York keeps them hidden with the skyscrapers and bright lights, and haze of pollution overhead. The sounds of traffic far below, muted like the soundtrack of a distant television show.

"You hate it so much down there?" Mike glances at his brother.

Raphael shrugs. They both know his answer is yes, but when he speaks it's with a rare mildness. "It's a cage. You know, Leo takes us through the tunnels for miles on exercises, but even those miles end. It's limited."

There's that little flash of self-awareness on his face that he gets when he speaks seriously. Mike loves that look. He's never seen it when Raph talks to Don or Leo. Raph never lets even that much vulnerability show.

"All this shit that feels so huge to us, the training and the fights and pizza and April and all of it. All of it's just the tiny piece of the world that falls down through the bars into our cage, and down there it feels like it's all we're ever gonna get."

The leather coat on Mike's shoulders is unfamiliar. Heavy. He's never ridden the Nightwatcher bike before tonight - he doesn't think Raph's taken it out much since Leo got back. It feels stiff and warm and like real weight on him. Just the way he would have thought. Just the way the bike is speed and freedom and wind and shouting and laughter.

Raph's his best friend. Always has been. If Raph's Mike's hero on top of that - and he is, in a lot of ways - it's not in a worshipful kind of way. It's always been closer than that. It's like Raph's the coolest kid in school but he's glad for Mike's friendship, though Mike - goofy, childish, stubborn in his optimism - is sometimes easy for others to dismiss.

Mike is as much Raph's friend as anyone could ever be. Raph will always prefer to spend at least some of him time on his own, but when he does open up and let someone come along, like tonight's trip up to ride the bike and waste an evening, it's Mike he asks.

He loves Raph unguarded. He loves to hear him, he loves to watch him. Raph's big, expressive. He's so intense, even in quiet words, that it's hard not to feel everything he feels when he speaks.

He figures he's more than a little in love with Raph. No surprise there. Nothing worth getting upset about, or making a big deal over.

Mike sits back on that roof, looking up, shutting his eyes against the bright windows spotting the darkness over their heads. He's in love with the world. The cage, the sewers, the bikes. Raph. Every part of it.

* * *

Mike drops to a crouch at the back of the bike to look at the other tire, limp and flat on the pavement. "What happened?" 

"Some punk breaking in a new knife, probably." Raph shakes his head and stands up, brushing palms together. "Leo's never gonna let me live this down."

Mike laughs. "One little switchblade and the Nightwatcher's out of commission, huh?"

"Don't start, Mikey."

Mike sees a sliver of movement from the corner of his eye and glances over. "You think--"

Pain in his shoulder. He looks down, surprised, and reaches back to pry something from where it's stuck to the leather in his coat. Tiny little thing, but it pierced leather and hit skin, and…

"Huh." A dart. Nothing dramatic with bone or feathered ends or a vial of poison attached, but it's a dart all the same.

He looks back to the side, but his vision's hazy and when he turns his head the rest of his body tries to follow. He stumbles and blinks to clear his eyes and just like that the ground tilts and crashes into his side like Raph getting in a tackle during sparring.

He opens his mouth to ask Raph for help. But if anything comes out he never knows, because he's out the next moment.

* * *

Days alone in a cage, being fed by a silent, smiling stranger who brings a bucket around three times a day so he can use the bathroom - which tops the short list of most embarrassing things he's ever gone through. So he doesn't mind so much when three men show up one day out of the blue with ropes in their hands. 

The ropes are to tie his wrists and ankles, though the ankles have a couple of feet between so he can walk. And he does, led between the two guys and behind the one giving the orders. He looks around the whole time, plotting and planning - though among his brothers those things aren't his strong point.

Down a narrow and nicely carpeted hallway, past another door. Into a room like his, square with nothing but a cage inside.

And there is the answer to one of his unanswered questions. "Raph!"

Raph doesn't look up when the door opens and they file in, but he looks up fast when he hears Mike's voice. His eyes are round and large as he sits up, grabbing a bar.

"Mikey?"

Mike moves forward, and when no one stops him he goes right to the cage, gripping the bar right over his brother's hand. "You got any idea what's going on here?"

Raph's eyes are wide and searching, running over his face as if Mike looks different somehow, or should look different. "Anyone hurting you, Mikey?" His voice is weird too, kind of hoarse and desperate. "Anyone done anything to you?"

Mike smiles hesitantly. "I'm good. I just sit in a room like this one. Bored, but I'm finally trying out some of those meditation exercises Splinter's tried to teach us."

Raph sags against the bars. His eyes go past Mike.

Mike isn't ready to be dismissed, though. He grips the bar. "Raph? You know what's going on here? Who are these--"

"Don't worry."

The voice makes him jump, and he turns without letting go of the bars. He frowns at the guy who led him here as he approaches.

"If our pet doesn't behave himself from now on you'll find out for yourself."

Raph's eyes fill, darkening to black. The moisture turns to ice, and the set of his jaw changes. He wants to kill, Mike sees. When Raph gets out of his cage, the guy doing all the talking won't have long to live. Mike is somehow certain that he wants to be there when it happens. There's something wrong. Something going on that he's not privvy to.

But they don't let Mike ask anything else, and Raph doesn't volunteer anything as Mike's led out again.

* * *

Mike's in love with Raph, of course, but he's sure Brian's the prettiest human he's ever seen in his life. Maybe Mike's gay, or maybe he's so deprived of actual options for himself that his mind doesn't separate male from female when it comes to attraction. 

Either way, Brian's hot. Brown hair and olive skin and striking light hazel eyes. Angular features. The guys who come for him every few hours call him Beautiful. Seems to be his nickname.

Mike isn't sure whether he was moved to Brian's room for any particular reason. Brian doesn't tell him - Brian, he thinks, can't talk. He's never spoken to Mike, and he doesn't try to. He nods and shakes his head, but other than listening he doesn't attempt communication.

Mike's just a spectator, sitting on his ass or laying on his creaky cot, undisturbed. Men come and go, and it's always Brian they're after. They smile at Mike, keep an eye on him when they move in and out, but they never talk to him.

When they bring Brian back from his latest absence, Mike watches them in annoyance. They leave a tray of food - more sandwiches - and smile at Mike as they go. Creepy.

Brian moves to the corner of the room and slides down the wall, silent and staring out with blank eyes. He's like that a lot, especially after they take him out.

Mike doesn't know what's going on, but being who he is he comes to life when the door shuts. He moves around their small prison like a housewife, tugging at the sheets on their cots, chattering the whole time about weather and New York and silly things that don't require thought or answer.

Brian never answers him. Not in gesture, not spelling words in the air with his hand. He doesn't make any attempt to communicate beyond listening. He sits and stares, and Mike doesn't know the first thing about the guy but he's really worried.

Every time Mike says Raph's name, Brian flinches.

* * *

One day when Brian's asleep the men come in, and it's Mike they come for. He's taken out and led to a room. He's pushed inside, and the man who took him to see Raph is in there waiting. 

Some kind of observation room or something. One wall has a huge panel of glass, and on the other side of the glass, one room over, there's Raph. He's sitting on a mattress on the floor, untied, hands on his arms like he's cold.

The man speaks, leaning in against the wall and pushing a small button. Intercom. "You have a visitor, pet."

Raph looks up, and instantly his eyes pierce Mike through the glass.

Mike tries to smile, but he has a feeling his relief at seeing Raph again isn't going to last long.

Raph's reaction to seeing him is instant and stark and violent. His head shakes a little, but the denial doesn't last longer than a blink and he's on the floor, on his knees, shouting at the glass. Without the button pushed he's in mute, but Mike doesn't need to hear him. He can see him.

He can see the terror on his brother's face. He can see his own name on his brother's mouth. The word no, over and over, directed at the both of them in turns.

He can see the door behind Raph opening, and it's only the beginning of the nightmare for Mike.

* * *

They know where Don's proximity alarms are planted, of course. Even if the world overhead seems twisted and different now, the sewers are still exactly the same. 

The moment Raph steps across the pressure sensor linked to Don's computer, his tireless, focused and deathly silent pace gives out. He stops in the middle of the tunnel and stands as if suddenly unsure how to keep going.

Mike sags to the side. Brian, still clinging to his arm, sinks beside him and against him, and Mike welcomes the desperate touch.

Only a minute or two later feet that are trained to be silent pound loudly through puddles, down the tunnel, not even trying to hide themselves.

Leo is first, but Don is so close behind him that they bump when Leo stops.

"Oh my God! Where…we've been…" Leo isn't given to rambling, though - his mind is too fast. He sees them slumped against the side of the tunnel. Sees the strange human Mike is half-hugging. Sees Raph's lack of any interest in their arrival.

He cuts off his greeting and goes to them, Don close behind. Mike knows Raph won't look at Leo, so he lifts his own eyes to his brothers. He swallows, more affected than he would have thought to see them, strong and untouched and familiar in a world that's so completely screwed up.

"Let's get you home," Leo says finally, soft.

Mike lifts Brian, and Raph stands on his own, and they follow their silent brothers to the lair.

When Mike starts crying about halfway there, Leo and Don are gracious enough not to stop and stare.


End file.
